


The Sea Below The Cliff

by Jules (the_nightspirit)



Series: A Poison Tree [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, I am like that, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pls dont judge my chaotic description, Prequel, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Young Jack, now this is the prequel to my story, some kind of AU, young gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nightspirit/pseuds/Jules
Summary: A young man from a rural era joins the military to get out of the life he thinks to be stuck in, where he makes a friend in a compassionate staff sergeant.





	The Sea Below The Cliff

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody and welcome to hell.
> 
> This fic is a sort-of-au, in which Jack joined the military as a combat nurse (my headcanon, because it makes sense to me), which is how he meets Gabriel (a staff sergeant of his platoon) when they are stationed in Southern France (Provence) around the first omnic crisis (Overwatch lore is a mess so I just do as I see fit).
> 
> This work spans from their young years until the day everything went down the toilet. Thank you for your interest and attention. Because I am a chaotic perfectionist, below is some more quick info before reading my work. Monologues are highlighted in cursive and tends to be Jack, because I enjoy writing in his POV (we have a lot in common), but Gabe gets all my love and attention, too, because I love him.   
> There will be a total of around 5 to 6 chapters (means: there will probably be 10 - 12).
> 
>  
> 
> Here are some content warnings and info:  
> (I post content warnings at the beginning of each chapter for your convenience)
> 
> \- all quotes are being cited, all art featured in the future is by me unless otherwise noted  
> \- this fic is going to have some mentions of blood, violence, and depression as well as trauma  
> \- if you checked the other fic, then you will see that I am a big fan of Mc76, which is hinted at here by a crush Jesse has on Jack  
> \- another warning: I do not see either Jack or Gabe as a father figure to Jesse, but more like an equal friend (especially Gabe)  
> \- Jack is mentioned as bisexual here, Gabe is gay  
> \- (as aforementioned) Jack is a combat nurse/medic for the first half of the fic
> 
>    
>  **Here** is a playlist to make it all worse [x](https://open.spotify.com/user/1113468683/playlist/1qt4zmyOxahZdsQ1vSNQ9y)
> 
> If you dislike any of this, you still have time to run away. Either way: I hope you enjoy this, and have a nice day!

 

**_1_ **

 

 _“If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.” -_ Haruki Murakami, _Kafka on the Shore,_ 2002

  


_“I did this to protect you.” A man says. He wanted to protect all he had and all he cherished, but in the end, this will was fatal to his very being. A long lost dream returned whence it came: the sea below the cliffs. The wind catches words and traps them alongside forgotten souls and ancient memory. Somewhere there, the moans resound like a broken record. They return and repeat the tale of their endless reverie._

 

Home - home was an abstract, foreign concept to him. When September came along, the lackluster world turned into a colorful painting with all shades of red and green one could imagine: birds, black dots on orange, sang a ballad to Demeter, who settled and dyed the world into her colors. Leaves twirled through the air and covered the pavements. Clouds passed him by and he always loved staring at cloudy skies. Blitheness lingered up there, between the many shades of blue, gold, and purple.

Then, January was a bleak, tiring month. Right after the new year’s, when everyone was still sentimental over last year’s events, and when the snow turned out to become somewhat grayer, he became one year older. He hated the first week of January, because that was when he had to endure endless birthday wishes from relatives and friends; songs sung to him, awkward speeches, some presents. Back then the questions arose of what he wanted to do with his life, and if you ever asked an eighteen-year-old what they wanted to do with life, you know what it must have felt. No-one knows what they want to do at that age. Jack never knew what he truly wanted, anyway. Other than now, staring at a report beneath his face. The pad lit up his face and he looked especially bleak that way. Years passed, his training passed on, and some months ago he finally made his way abroad. Only crickets filled the air with some sort of music. No other noise dared to break through the silence.

 _Crickets never rest here,_ he thought. His eyes went up, looking through the open doors, watching the curtains sway in the wind. It brought the scent of a very late summer night with it, some petrichor of a downpour nearby. Jack wiped off his sweaty forehead and looked at his own writing. He judged himself.

“You always work that late?” Someone next to him asked. Jack shrugged one shoulder. Usually, the medical staff and the soldiers slept in separate establishments, but since this building lacked the space, they were all stuffed inside this part of the building. Desperate times require desperate measures, and so he had a bed next to a soldier. Jack didn't want to look up. _Funny it was him_ , he noted to himself. Jack was assigned to a troop of soldiers here, together with a few more nurses and doctors. The supervisor of said troop was one name Gabriel Reyes, and this name preceded his status of royalty. A tall statue of a man with what seemed a stern face, though he was not stern, and neither was he stiff. A fine art come to live, and since Jack liked the arts he knew what he talked about.

 _Pop!_ Bubblegum. The man next to him reminded him on that one kid he went to school with: somewhat nerdy and yet too cool for school. A mix of a rebellious punk and an A-student. The first day they have met, he wore all black, with the shirt of a band he didn't recognize. He started talking and people stopped and listened – and not because he had a captivating voice, but because he knew how to talk and what he talked about. Intelligent and witty. A rare combination in people.

He read a book as old as that damn building and continued chewing on his gum as though he felt anger. Maybe the plot agitated him? Jack eventually looked at Gabriel, who replied with a sneaky glance. “What? You want me to read to you?” He asked; a genuine question. Jack blinked surprised because he couldn't distinguish between his jokes and him being serious as yet. “No.”

Jack looked away. It made Gabriel chuckle and he turned a page. “So,” the soldier got curious. Everyone kind of felt interest in nurses … an old tradition. Why? No-one dared to say. “Where are you from?”

“Indiana.”

Gabriel laughed again, and this time it was loud and his eyes wrinkled. He had to put the book down on his chest. “Where did you leave the corn, pal?”

Jack rolled his eyes. Not a single day passed without hearing that joke. “I shoved it up my arse.”

Gabriel's laugh dimmed into a snickering, soft noise. “I am sorry. Is that why you are here? To run away from home? You won't be the first.”

Was it that obvious? “Why are you here, then?”

“Because I ran away from home.” He replied with an arched brow. Then he chuckled again. “No, I was just kidding.”

“I haven't noticed.” Jack replied deadpan. He sorted the reports and wondered what else he could do that did not involve Jack looking at him.

“This is not the right time to become sentimental, so I'm going to leave it like that.” Gabriel replied short.

“If you ask a person a question, you could expect them to ask you the same in return.” Jack snuck a glance at him and noticed the brown eyes on his profile. Gabriel nodded and closed his book. Then he rolled on his side and rested his head on his hand. Between their beds was the room of one small nightstand. Enough to keep someone from smacking someone else. Or any other situations one wanted to avoid with strangers.

“At least you took some wit with you, because most of your kind are rather on the one-dimensional side?”

“I will take that as a compliment.” Jack stared at the pad and pondered for a moment. Gabriel noticed and reached out to under his bed, browsing through a mini-library until he found a book he thought to fit him or at least interest him. A thin novel. A mystery young adult story by a Spanish writer. He lifted it up and put it on Jack's hands between his slightly arched legs. Jack beheld it with caution at first, then he read the title. _The Watcher in the Shadows._

“Thanks.” Jack said short and read the first page without much further ado.

“Oh, you're welcome. Seems like a story you would enjoy.”

Jack noticed that Gabriel winked, then rolled around and turned off his light. “Just don't wake me up when you're scared. I need my beauty sleep.”

  
  
  


The night ended after reading with short intervals of sleep. Already quite sleep-deprived, Jack headed to medical with the book stuffed into the back pockets of his pants. His hands tangled bored on his sides, his eyes somewhat swollen due to a lack of sleep, and his hair tousled because of a harsh wind rushing through the camp. Someone greeted him and he replied with a soft grunt.

Jack was twenty-four years old and already felt as though he was sixty. He stared at the coffee can before him: a thermos flask which contained shitty coffee he didn't feel like drinking, but what choice did he have? He circled around the perimeters, from left to right, up and down, did this, did that, and he never came to enjoy the view. France. He hasn't been to France before. Before him lay a wide, green world until the city's skyline touched the scenery. The weather was cool enough that he saw the steam of his coffee. Another one. His third. Jack did not miss home. Strange to him, since he loved his parents very much. But when there was nothing to miss, why would he have to feel this way? Even this town showed more life than his home and there were three houses and one farm.

Nobody here called him by his first name, though, hence why he began to distance himself from who he was at some point. Did that make any sense? When people keep calling you terms for medical staff, or your last name, you slowly fade into oblivion. You are here, and you do things, but do you remember who you are? You are someone they know, someone who did this or that, someone with a coffee in their hands staring out into a bright world. Jack found himself ridiculous. He rolled his eyes and drank his coffee while returning to this duties. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. If nothing happened. In case of an actual incident, he wouldn't be able to spend one day outside of this place. Where should he go anyway? Chaos awaited visitors anywhere. Jack stared at the clock, waiting for it to move faster. Trapped by the numbers, Jack's blue eyes began to twitch and he groaned. Too bad he finished that book already or he would at least have something to read. He could read it again? The doctor joined him after a break.

“Hey, kid,” she said. “Take the rest of your shift off. It's quiet out there.” _Did she just call me a 'kid'?_

Outside, dusk wrapped the world onto a blanket which didn’t warm anything or anyone: the blue of the sky and the yellow remains of aircrafts traced the canopy. The moon was up and frolicked at the confused nurse staring at it. There was a colony on the moon, and when the air was clear enough, one could see the shiny lights on the surface.

 

Jack strolled across the base until his legs hurt and felt heavy enough to tire him. He made his way to the mess hall, more of a canteen than anything else, and found possible conversational partners there -- which he wasn’t in the mood for. Since joining the military, he met a new face everyday, and while he enjoyed it very much, he secretly was quite introverted. Sometimes he just wanted to enjoy his own company and brood across a bowl of soup with a glass of water. Today, there was no such thing, and neither was there soup. Someone turned on a centuries old song -- a song before his time, something his parents would have listened to when they were in their pre-teens. That music left a charming impression, and an old man at a stove cooked dinner. His mustache covered most of his upper lip and together with the pots and his apron he looked very European. A voice made him shift his ears as though he was an alarmed deer. Jack scanned the people at the three tables  and on an old school bench, upholstered with a floral prints, sat a man in black and an amused expression on his face. He talked to a slender woman, she seemed older than him, above a cup of tea. After the short comment, he leaned back and dedicated himself to his coffee. Jack wondered if they assigned him to the nightshift. Jack hustled across the floor tiles and settled down next to him. Coincidentally, it was the only free spot.

What did he want to eat?

What was on the menu?

Jack focused on the green and blue tiles on the walls, and the white ones on the floor. Tiny curtains covered windows, a white lamp lit the place, and the song changed to something even older.

Gabriel chewed on dry bread, which was an appetizer, and looked at Jack. Since he slept next to the nurse, he became familiar with his scent: fresh soap, antiseptic, and some very faint touch of fresh laundry. Typical for a nurse, but also wood. Almost as if Jack constantly took walks. Fir tree. He offered Jack the basket with bread and his blue eyes fell on the hand and switched toward the loaf. Jack took a piece and ripped it into smaller ones with both arms on the table.

“He is making potato soup. I’m as intrigued as I am terrified.” Gabriel stated, and Jack noticed that it was a joke. _Soup._

Silence fell between them, but Gabriel knew how to quickly chase it away. “Did you like the book?”

“Yes.” Jack replied, immediately scorning himself for lacking social skills. “I already finished it.”

Gabriel chuckled and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He looked much older than he was -- Jack did not dare guessing his age. Older in a way of more mature than most of the people here. Someone who knew a lot of things out of experience, someone, who already left an impression on the world without being here for too long yet. It was likable. Everyone seemed to be so much more interesting than himself, Jack thought. That wasn’t so hard though, because he thought be rather boring.

“Why did you think it would be a good book for me?” Jack asked. He was genuinely interested, because he didn’t seem to be like any of the characters in the story. Maybe the dollmaker. Just a little bit.

“It’s simple, and endearing.”

Jack wondered what that meant. “I am going to ask you for more books based on my impression on you, and wait with what you come up with.”

The chef shared his soup, though it was more of a stew, and the bowls made their way around. Kitschy bowls, they were, with funny ornaments of bygone days. The man loved antiques a lot. This base used to be a farm some years ago until everyone rushed to a better spot for hiding, or supporting their cause. All that they left behind was this man, his family, and a bunch of dogs. He offered the building and soon became the cook, while his wife supplied the soldiers and the medical staff with her knowledge of the area. She used to be a ranger many years ago.

The soup’s texture felt weird on Jack’s tongue, but he ate it anyway because it actually tasted good.

“I have so many books I bet there is something you like.” Gabriel spoke.

“Where do you get all these books from?”

“I buy them.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Of course, but do you just carry them around like that? Everywhere?”

“Yes, and no. There is a small market downtown once in awhile and they sell all kinds of books in plenty of languages. Very rural, and very charming.”

“Markets in times like these…” Jack whispered to himself, somewhat taken aback.

“You’ve got to make life better somehow, don’t you.” Gabriel remarked and remained silent for the time being. Jack almost thought he said something inappropriate, but his company just ate the stew. An opportunity to look at him from that close, which Jack didn’t let himself be robbed of. He had pierced ears, but no accessories since they forbade that in the dress code. They sat there and ate in silence. Surrounded by chatty people sharing anecdotes about their lives and their homes. In all that noise, Jack found rest and his feet untangled and the legs stretched. The rural feeling made him less homesick, which he secretly was. Something there was an aching little pinch, and he missed the boring landscape. He missed the red leaves and the musky scent in the air. It wasn’t much different here, as though the world was a small place. A little lake, with the same trees on each side of the water.

  


Few casualties occurred when soldiers went out to find survivors or otherwise lost folk, who were in need for support. Sometimes, they stayed here for a few days until a team picked them up and brought them to a safer place. This exact thing occurred last night: a team recovered a small group from a neighboring town after a minor incident. Hence why Jack woke up an hour early and headed to the showers to get of any night sweat, and to wake up. Buzzing in the quarters made him miss Gabriel’s empty bed, and as he entered the bathrooms for a morning shower, he found someone doing a night shower. Gabriel belonged to the team of last night’s excursion. Jack was curious of what happened last night, he always was, and joined the ‘stall’ next to him. There were four showers in total, and he didn’t mind if it was weird that he used the one right next to him. Also: Gabriel’s shower gel smelled very nice.

“How was your shift?” Jack asked, sounding like a concerned spouse.

“Are you in need of an adventurous story?” Gabriel replied while rubbing foam on his arms. “Alas, I haven’t got anything for you.”

Jack sighed. It was so loud that Gabriel stopped covering himself in foam. “I’m sorry, it was a long night.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.” Jack inhaled the scent and stared at his sad soap. Gabriel offered him his after reading the face, but Jack declined the offer.

“I’m not allowed to wear scents.” He paused. “Thanks.”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel put the bottle away and finished rinsing the soap off his skin, “you’re a nurse.”

“Yes. I, in fact, am a nurse. How very attentive of you.”

“... and a morning person.” Gabriel stated dry. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. “Horrible combination; I feel both judged and patronized without you even saying anything.”

Jack tossed his soap at Gabriel’s arm, aimed at his chest at first but he dodged it by turning, in reflex. It was silly, but Gabriel appeared amused. “Ouch!” He caught the soap. “You wound me.”

He returned the soap and left Jack beneath water that turned colder by the minute. Everything here was so ancient. The tiles, the seats, the pipes, the technology. Jack propped the soap on its dish. Even the dish came from another era. Despite the lack of most modern conveniences, Jack appreciated this vintage touch and not because he liked history.

  
  


By the time Jack has gotten used to most everyone on the squad, half of them died. He should have prepared better for this since that was what happened in times like these and he should not have bothered to bond with those people too much. The sky was grey, it was sundown and he watched the stars popping out behind the orange curtain which hid them. There was blood on his shirt, and some of it remained on his cheek and temple - a soldier got hit in his neck, just a wee spot like Achilles’ heel, and he bled to death. He wished he could have done more but the bleeding was too intense. Jack licked his lips and downed his eyes.

“You good?” Someone mumbled worn out. It was Gabriel joining him with whispered words. Jack nodded but kept watching the sky. Gabriel thought that the silence between them shouldn’t be there.

“Things like that happen. When I first joined, you know,” He had such a Californian way of talking,  it made Jack’s lips twitch entertained. Then it faded again. “I didn’t know what to do because you like these people, you talk to them like in any job, and then they just disappear. That doesn’t happen at any job.”

“Thank you for this TED talk, Reyes.”

Reyes scoffed and looked away. He found Jack interesting, and usually guys like him never got any of his attention and not only because he disliked blonds. Something there was absurdly bland and at the same time, absurdly intriguing. He looked like a wolfhound, not someone to treat wounds. Perhaps he was someone who enjoyed taking care of people, making them comfortable, and being as serene as possible. Gabriel compared him to the moon: bright and quiet, staring the night with a poignant look on his face, reflecting the sunlight so that no-one is ever trapped in darkness. A little cold though, and Gabriel didn’t fancy the cold.

In those weeks they have spent together, Jack learned that one of his mother’s, Gabriel had the privilege with grow up with two mothers, was a history professor. She fed him interesting facts which he digested and remembered, and now he had something to talk about when Jack fell silent, who found it peculiar that the leader of this squad found himself in need of entertaining the local combat nurse.

Now, he said, his mother passed away and he received everything she owned, naturally as only family member left alive, and which they aware of, including all her books. _She had millions,_ he said, _if we come back, I can show you - it’s amazing._ Old books, too, dating from the 17th century and coming from all over the world.

“We’re supposed to head to a nearby town, extract survivors, stay sharp.” Reyes nodded as he turned around to leave him behind. Jack sighed.

  


Whenever he was nervous, Jack rested his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and twiddle his thumbs, or just fumble with his hands. This left red traces on his skin and his dog tags dangled between his arms. Then he moved up and back against the wall of the vehicle. His eyes were restless. Gabriel watched him with suspicious vigor. Morrison was too empathetic. While there was nothing wrong with that, he doubted he will ever grow a skin thick enough to survive this, and maybe it was not supposed to be that way, because the world could always use more empaths. He has been with them for months now, almost an entire year, and he still cared for each little hurt soul as though he was their father. If this was not a bloody conflict, it would have been admirable but war is no place to waste such a rarity. Not another one. Jack loosened, moved his hands up and placed his beret back on his head as he caught the sneaky glance Gabriel observed him with, who then looked away and interlocked his hands on his crotch. Jack smirked short.

Back at home, his town consisted of farmers and everyone was married, about to get married, or widowed. There barely existed a person who woke his interest at all, and Jack struggled with finding out what his actual interest was. Or was he interested at all? He dated few women and two men, and when he moved to the big city he found himself in the situation of liking it all. He never thought in black and white anyway, what did it matter as long as someone had a good heart? Nowadays, Jack pretty much shocked himself as his interest in anyone male peaked and he could not help himself admired one or two butts on random occasions. He felt inappropriate for this train of thought and slapped himself mentally.

He really liked strong arms.

Jack cleared his throat and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger, staring at the front of the vehicle as it stopped. He rose as they were allowed to go, at the same time and pace as Gabriel. Both men stood ready to go and noticed each other’s commonalities in a non-verbal agreement. The silence between them was audible for a short moment, an echoing pure sound devouring all other sounds. Swallow, and the real world returned with its noises and ramblings. Gabriel jumped down first and mud flung through the air. Jack was somewhat more careful.

Rain drizzled onto their heads and their canvases turned wet. The area was wide and green; the rain didn’t rob it of its beauty and neither did the war. People left their footprints on the ground which Jack traced with his eyes: different sizes, some small, some big, followed by other tracks. Houses here nestled before a white stripe on the horizon, turning into gaping dark silhouettes reaching out to new visitors. They wanted to talk - talk about what they have seen like silent witnesses. Hills bemoaned the loss of the purple lavender hills with a chorus in g minor. A sudden bang resounded and Jack looked up as though he woke out of a dream.  Gabriel raised his rifle and showed to slowly and attentively move onward. Jack rested his right hand on his handgun and followed the silent command as everyone else did. The town rested abandoned in silence, here and there a dead body they examined, stepped further, and looked for survivors. The far away sounds of guns and explosions bored into their heads, but they ignored it and moved on through destroyed and smoldering streets. The rain erased outside fires. It almost seemed as there was nobody left behind. They split and Jack joined Gabriel and Tessa, a soldier as well who walked behind the two.

Together, they entered one of the first buildings around the corner nearby a market. A medieval church building watched gloomy, as it has seen many wars held and fought by humans. Down here, little ants which rushed through time so quickly, they were all forgotten soon. The house harbored more silence, more lifeless bodies, broken furniture, and an unspoken talk of regret.

An explosion. Somewhere outside. The scent of burned flesh penetrated him and shook his body, but he didn't stop from walking through a sea of ruins. He stumbled across an arm buried beneath the bricks of a broken wall. Lifeless. Dead as anything he found here today, and he didn't want to continue. In front of him marched the big shadow of a man he became friends with. Reyes walked on, leading the way through stones toward a distress signal. The light on his weapon lit the area enough to see nothing but misery. Jack wanted to leave. He was twenty-five. Why was he doing that?

Gabriel stopped and reached back for Jack to do so, as well. He finally looked up and wondered what alerted the soldier. Movement. A voice. A gentle soprano, the one of a child. Gabriel's hand dropped and returned to the rifle. He gestured covering Jack, who crossed the cold sea and found a girl between two lifeless bodies. Her black, curled hair in her face, two brown eyes staring up at him in his medic uniform. She kept singing. Jack tried to smile but he felt like screaming. He crouched and tried to convince the little person to trust him. She did quickly since he was made of flesh and bone. Back here, that was enough. Gabriel strolled about, finding the distress beacon in the hands of a dead woman. He sighed and lowered down to her, closing her eyes with one hand and speaking some words.

Jack was busy examining the girl until he moved up. She stood, as well and held his hand. Then, he drifted away in thought and they floated onward like an abandoned boat on still waters, toward a foggy open sea which took the book onto a journey into dangerous waves. The noises around him silenced, then reappeared all at once and sudden steps, the shattered furniture cracking, loud noises collided with him. He swung around with his sidearm pulled and aimed Gabriel in reflex, who just looked at his eyes. Gabriel has seen that a lot, many people here had these moments. He rose his hands and never stopped looking at him as both of his hands moved onto Jack's. Resting there for a while on their backs before slowly pushing them down. Jack blinked. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

“It's alright. I will protect you.”

  


Back at their base, Jack still avoided Gabriel’s stern and concerned look. He hated it. He did so because he could not handle the two confronting eyes attempting to make a talk about what happened. He was stable, wasn’t he? He could take it, all he needed was time to get used to it. The girl’s name was  Victoire, she was six years old and the daughter of the woman clinging to the distress signal. She still had family up north whom she would be transferred to once her examination was finished and once she rested enough. Right now, she was in the hospital’s care and inside a room of her own to give her the rest she required. Jack thought, after a long day, to check on her and once he found the girl, entered the room and sat on a stool before her bed.

She wasn’t upset by his appearance, so it seemed, and fumbled with the brim of her blanket. Her face was clean now, unlike Jack’s, and her curls wiggled in a slight breeze coming through a window to her left.

“How are you?” He asked in French.

“I can’t sleep.” She answered.

How must it be to have witnessed all she has witnessed? He wondered about that and it made him feel sad. He tried to chase the thoughts away and instead rose what he wanted to give her in the first place. A little kangaroo plush. He got from a soldier who died some months ago and thought that it would be make a better friend to her. Its name was Pantoufle, as the soldier said, _like that kangaroo from my favorite movie._ Jack wiggled it and put it on her lap. Victoire looked at it baffled before she took it with one hand.

“That’s Pantoufle. I thought maybe you like some company.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

He smiled gentle and rose to stand and allow her to sleep. “Sleep well.” He nodded, but Victoire looked back up at him. “Can you stay?”

Jack inhaled and rose his chin as he returned to her and she scooted to the left on her bed as though she wanted him to join. While they returned, she stayed at Jack’s side for the entire ride and clung to his arm as though they have met before. He always had a talent when it came to children, but it still was remarkable to radiate such an amount of trust, as he believed. Then, he also liked children very much because they weren’t judgemental and great company, unlike most grouchy adults.

Once next to her, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling without knowing what to say. Perhaps he should tell her a story? She nuzzled his arm again with Pantoufle in her hand and closed her eyes. Jack found that fate made the decision for him already, and he decided to stay here until she slept deeply enough to notice him leave. He started humming the song she sang when they found her without knowing the lyrics. Somehow, this calmed him down and he felt a little tired himself now.

  


Few hours later, he left the room and headed to the bathrooms where he stared into the mirror and noticed how dirty his face was. He turned on the water and let it run over his hands before he washed his face. Someone else joined him: arms crossed, shoulder against the door frame. Jack noticed who it was without looking up because he recognised the walk. A march disguised as the waltz of a proud strider, moving in harmony with the music.

“Did you follow me?” Jack asked annoyed.

“Yes,” Gabriel replied dry, “I saw you finally left her, eager to find out how you are doing.”

“I’m great.” Jack turned off the water and tried off his hands and face with a thin towel.

Gabriel made a noise somewhere between understanding and doubt. There was nothing wrong with feeling the way he did but he should know that. It didn’t seem that he understood it, Gabriel thought. Jack had the same training as everyone else, but people new to an actual war did not want to show _weakness._ Which was something Gabriel despised, because emotions weren’t weaknesses. Bottled up, they were. Jack noticed the endless stare.

“What are you trying?” He asked. “Shit happens. I am sorry for aiming a gun at you but it was dark and last I have seen you, you were not in that direction.”

“That is not why I am here, for fuck’s sake. I’m not sergeant Miller, that egghead.” Gabriel sounded offended. Miller was someone Gabriel fought with many times: a typical American G.I. from the book. Tall, blonde, no hair, talking about patriotism while lacking knowledge thereof. One of a dying breed. Gabriel once broke his nose.

“Then why are you here?”

 _Why was he here?_ Gabriel thought about that for a moment and his nose ruffled as he tried to form a good answer in his head first before speaking. “As I said: I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Now, you see how I do and yet, you are still here.” Jack finally turned to face him, his beret in his hands, waiting. Gabriel was a wee taller. He moved off the wall and grumbled.

“As you wish.” Gabriel said after a while and unlocked his arms. He twisted around and made his way back whence he came. Jack remained here in the ugly light of the room, fumbling with his hat which he beheld as if it was the rock he needed to grab for hold. _Why was I here?_

  
  


* * *

  


_ Do you remember what the sea smelled like? Salt. The air thick and pregnant of memories as I watched the seagulls circle our heads in joyful anticipation. The sea has always been so full of mystery. In Irish lore, this is where one enters the otherworld. Sometimes, I wondered if that was true. As a kid, when my grandmother Siobhan told me those stories. So, I am here and I stare at the sea without much ado. Souls gather below my feet around the cliffs and I wonder if yours is one of them. Are you watching me? Are your eyes glued on my face trying to speak to me? Or are you one of the seagulls ready to feed on me when I pass? They look strong and energetic enough. Then there is the sun behind a grey veil of clouds, and I wonder: is that you, perhaps? Sitting up there waiting for it to be save to come out and approach me?  Nothing of that makes any sense. Nothing of anything ever made sense to me now in retrospect; none of my choices and none of my words and taunts. Everything was a just waste of air and I wished that it all would have been done differently. Perhaps there could have been more chances, more pages on a book a reader stopped continuing because it bored them. Or because it hurt them. Or because they could never make it until the end. A book may ends too early, but not always is it because the books stopped being great, just because the reader disappeared.  _

_ I notice that you are the cliff I stand upon. The ever so resistant shore that opens up to bid farewell before one enters the waves of rough waters. The cliffs which support anyone in my place, and me, and who carries winds and lets seagulls rest once exhausted from the trailing the skies. The cliff above the sea, breaking waves and guarding the winds. And the sea? The sea just accepts this as it nudges the uneven wall. The sea below the cliff will never not be without it. _

 

 

 

 

_"But baby I've been here before_

_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_

_You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya_

_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

_And love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

 

_Maybe there's a God above_

_But all I've ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya_

_And it's not a cry that you hear at night_

_It's not somebody who's seen the light_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"_

 

Leonard Cohen, _Hallelujah,_ 1984


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